


a thousand years

by pennyproud



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Oh god, Royalty AU, dw about it just read it, eric is barely in it but still, it's mainly love and angst type stuff, like their love in different periods, yikes rip me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4318032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennyproud/pseuds/pennyproud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The only way love can last a lifetime is if it's unconditional. "- Stephen Kendrick,  The Love Dare.</p><p>Or, the 1 time Derek and William loved each other and the 5 times they could not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. we have found angels in the form of kings

**Author's Note:**

> do u ever..,, make a fic to wreck ur friend ([eyes emoji] tonya) and end up wrecking yourself because...same
> 
> this is the first chapter of six Kill Me Now

i. _ **  
**_

Derek is eleven when his Father dies.  
  
No one will tell him how, but there are whispers of betrayal, of the Queen, and mostly, of him.  
  
(He wonders if, when they whisper about him, they talk about the way he shook when he broke down at the funeral, about the scuffs in his soul and the emptiness in his heart. "Poor baby," They'll say. "First losing his Mother to the plague and now this." Derek cries harder.)  
  
His half brother is almost worse off than him. The Queen, Derek's stepmother, starts campaigning for him to be the next King. Her grounds are something about how the reigning Queen's first born should be King, not the deceased one's. Derek's mother's name rolls off her tongue as if it is diseased, and he almost cries again.  
  
Almost.  
  
By the time he is sixteen, he's coronated. The Queen has continued her bitter debate for years, ruling the country herself as she vyed for her own son to take over. Eventually, a council had decided that Derek had every right to the throne, as the King's firstborn, and a weight was lifted off of Derek's shoulder as the crown was placed on his head.  
  
He is not a puppet king. That's what his step mother wants him to be, what the advisors want him to be, but he refuses. He remembers his Father's hand, strong on his shoulders, and the Autumn breeze flowing around him as the man said: "You are a king. Royalty runs through your veins and if you bite someone, it will be deadly, like poison."  
  
So Derek becomes poison. Unstoppable, in a way, doubling the kingdom in size in a year and a half, and changing his panel of advisors completely. He makes enemies, but he doesn't care, because no one can say he's a bad King. He is kind and helps the poor and violence is at an all time low by his eighteenth birthday.  
  
Still, with all the might he has, Derek cries for hours on the anniversary of his Father's death, and can't leave his room on the anniversary of his Mother's. Derek is at the top of the world and he is utterly alone. It's poetic, in a way, but Derek had read this specific verse so many times it was starting to lose it's charm.  
  
Which might be why he sobs so hard when the man who has been serving him since he was born dies, in his sleep, because of old age. Suddenly it's like everything has changed, and Derek has to look up and realize he's not a kid anymore. He's a King. And Kings cannot fall apart every time they lose a soldier. So he takes a deep breath and nods when Eric, the man in charge of the day to day in the castle, tells him that they've found a new man to serve him.

 ** _& &_**  
  
Turns out the new man is Derek's age. He has fiery red hair and freckles all over, which Derek has never seen before. He says he's from another kingdom, one of the ones Derek overtook. He says the takeover wasn't that bad, and much needed, so he didn't feel any animosity towards Derek. "My name is William Poindexter." He pauses and then rushes to add, "Your Highness." Derek laughs and waves it off.  
  
"Call me Nursey. All my friends do." That seems to shock William a little, and Derek laughs again, much to Will's chagrin.  
  
"My friends call me Dex. Or, Will, I guess." He says as he sets down the last Derek's food on his nightstand. "Do you, uh, need anything else? Your Highness?" He says, a small smile playing on his lips as he addresses Nursey formally.  
  
"Hm, no, that'll be all, Willie." All the humor drops from Will's face as Derek laughs.  
  
"Stop being ugly! Don't call me that!" Nursey keeps on laughing and the rest is history. From then on, they're attached at the hip, and Derek wouldn't have it any other way. Dex is a welcome break from advisors and battle strategies. They talk about the stars and poetry and the entire concept of "chill." ("How can you chill? How many chill kings do you know?")  
  
At some point Derek become conscious of the way that Dex blushes when he barges into the King's quarters without knocking and sees Nursey partially indecent. He's usually met with a pillow to the face (and a heat in Derek's face that they both ignore).  
  
Most nights, Derek is grateful for someone who accepts him for who he is. Which, sometimes, is just an eleven year old boy who lost his parents, or a sixteen year old who's entire life is falling apart, or an almost nineteen year old who has the world and writes poetry and is so in love it hurts.  
  
Most nights, the two of them long for the taste of each other's lips, for the feeling of rough fingertips grazing over bare skin and sweaty silk sheets sticking to them like honey. But they settle for fractions, like the chill that runs up their spines when Dex's hand brushes Nursey's as he hands him his goblet, or starry nights when they are just existing together, in a way neither of them has before.  
  
On Derek's nineteenth birthday, everything is so loud and there are so many flowers and so much love and the world makes sense again. Dex is right next to him, smiling dumbly and blushing and laughing too hard at dumb jokes. That night Dex walks with him from the ballroom to his room, staying quiet except for the occasional chuckle or jab at Derek's pride. They're both tired from the festivities, and the sound of their shoes against the ground (or, Dex's shoes, as Nursey had taken his off to opt for a barefoot walk against the cold castle tiles–not before endless ridicule from Dex, but whatever.) was a welcome break from the blaring noise from before.  
  
"This is, uh, you." Dex says, stopping abruptly in front of Nursey's door. Then he does that thing with his thumbs that means he's hiding something, and Derek furrows his eyebrows together. "What?" Will says defensively after seeing the look on Derek's face.  
  
"What's wrong?" The darker boy replies simply, feigning some form of nonchalance.  
  
"Nothing, I just–I..." Dex takes a deep breath before a look of determination settles in his eyes. Derek is a little taken aback by the quick change. "Happy birthday, Your Highness." And before Derek can interject how much he hates when Dex does that, the ginger is grabbing his collar and pulling their lips together. The red headed boy melts into it after a second or two of force, and Derek finds himself lifting the lighter boy up and letting him wrap his legs around the King's torso, the weight of their bodies pushing open the door.  
  
Dex is moaning his name as Derek works his neck, and the same stars that they have watched so many times finally watch them back, taking in all their exposed skin and their moans for more and the quiet "I love you"'s that are far from meaningless. Because Derek is in love, and Dex loves him too, and they are together, in the most needy and desperate way they can manage. The moon sings them a lover's song that night.

 _ **& &**_  
  
Dex wakes up in a pool of someone else's blood.  
  
Derek isn't moving and Dex is screaming for help, but no one's coming. The sky is falling and the stars have stopped dancing.

Dex is eighteen when the ex Queen overthrows the King in order to put her son on the throne.

Dex is eighteen when when the last great King dies.

 


	2. before war puts an end to mankind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek speaks sweet Russian and shows Dex the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH ! i'm not a expert on history!! i'm so sorry if this is so off base but anyways !! WW1 AU !

You learn young that war spares no one.

It did not spare your cousins, or your brothers, and soon it would take you too.

You learn young that no war can be short.

This all had started when you were fourteen, young and naive enough to believe that Russia stood a chance. Your brother went off to war first, with a group of friends, promising to come back in a year, with the Russian flag held high.

You never saw him again.

Still, old men in taverns yelled about the next move the army should make, about how if they were generals, everything would be different. You don't believe them and they make you feel a little sick in your stomach.

But the worst part was the raids.

They were unstoppable, and never seemed to end. The sound of bombs in the distance, you could stomach. The death, you could stomach.

But the screaming of the raids, the brashness and the roughness and the calloused hands all over you, wanting more, always wanting more–and who were you to say no? They had guns and you had your sadness, which, although big, could never compete.

The last raid before the war ends is a wild one. These soldiers are American, which everyone is going crazy over, but they don't seem much different from any other soldiers. For all their talk of "freedom" and "independence" they sure did seem just like Germans. Screams about Russian beer and Russian broads fill the air and you are only half asleep when your door cracks open.

The Man walks in, tall and dark with curly, dirt-stained hair and a bit of mud on his hands. The room is dark but you've gotten better at seeing when there's no light.

He walks over to your desk, running his thumb over the spine of the books and smiling as he pulls one down. You decide to say something just as he turns the page. "You can read Russian?" You ask, quiet. The Man jumps, closing the book and squinting his eyes to see you from across the room. You roll over and turn on the light, closing your eyes at the brightness.

"Yeah," He says, in Russian. You decide that that's good, because you barely knew English. "I'm Derek." He takes a step forward cautiously, and you shrug, because if he meant to do something bad, it would've happened already. "My buddy is just, in there–" He motions into the hallway, and you roll your eyes and your sister's antics. "I'm William." You say, sticking out your hand and waiting for him to take it. The dim light next to you makes the difference in your skin that much more noticeable. "You're...American?" The Man—Derek, you remind yourself—nods. "You like poems? That's a little...lame." You say, almost smiling.

He seems to take offense, going into some long speech about iambic pentameter (whatever that was) and some American poet that must have just given you an even more confused expression, because he sighed and laughed. "You're a little lame." Derek says instead, smirking a little.

"Is that the best you could do?" You're standing now, right in front of him. If his boots were off you'd be the same height, but they're on and you're three inches underneath him.

"You're a lot lame." He insists, and you chuckle, running a hand through your red hair. A group of unsolicited moans come from the direction of your sister's room, and you roll your eyes at the blush on Derek's cheeks. "Are you a...?" You don't know what Americans call not having had sex yet, but he seems to understand.

"Uh, yeah, I got deployed when I was seventeen, so there wasn't really time—" And before you know what you're doing, he's against the wall and you're on your toes to reach his lips. And maybe you say something corny, like "Let me teach ya somethin', sailor," but the point is you're doing this and for the first time it's because you want to.

Derek kisses you like he's in love, tender and kind and moving to please you just like the poetry he loved. You cannot get enough of it, and reach out to turn off the light and let the night swallow the two of you whole, but he stops you. "I wanna see you," He says, breathily, kicking off his (ugly) boots and taking your lips under his again.

It's the best night of your life, and you don't ever want it to end.

But morning comes. Derek is gone, just as he should be, and all you have left is a page he tore out of your book and scribbled on loosely.

_"The music ceased–the noonday Dream_

_Like dream of night withdrew_

_But Fancy still will sometimes deem_

_Her fond creation true."_

You frame it. You never see him again.


	3. nothing wonderful lasted forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dex's breath hitches, but Derek doesn't stop reaching, letting the scars run under his rough fingers like that was where they belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate this one so much i'm sorry it's literal garbage i hate this i just wan t to get it over with ,, also i know nothing abt history im sorr y this is Trash

It had started when he was eleven.

It had been 1919 when the Prohibition began, and Derek remembers hearing his Father say something about "hoodlums" making money off it.

By the time he's eighteen, Derek completely understands what his Father meant. More and more speakeasies are popping up everywhere (but Derek could never go, because the Nurse family had a reputation to uphold), and the amount of crime was skyrocketing.

Moonshine came into popularity (it tasted an overbearing shoe bottom, so Derek generally stayed away from it), and so did backdoor deals for alcohol.

Derek is nineteen when he finally gets to go to a speakeasy. As soon as he steps into the room, his eyes land on a dirty looking ginger boy sitting at a table, looking way too serious for someone at a party. "Hi, I'm Derek." The darker boy tries, sticking out his hand and smiling a little. The red haired boy looks between Derek's face and the hand, more amused than anything, and sighs.

"Will." He says as he shakes back, loosely. Derek hovers some more and finally Will takes in a breath and asks, "What can I help you with?"

Derek tries to hide his embarrassment as he rubs the back of his neck. "I've never really...I've never really, uh, been to one of these? What do I do?" Will laughs like it's the best thing he's heard all week.

"You drink, dummy." Derek scoffs in disbelief.

"I know that, asshole."

"Then why'd you ask?" Will replies, a smile on his face and he takes another swig of something suspicious looking. Derek rolls his eyes and Will laughs again.

"I thought maybe I'd find something worthwhile here." Derek doesn't really know that he's started flirting, but here he is, a little smile on his face and eyelashes batting. "But you proved me wrong." The black haired boy goes to walk back out the door when a small, reluctant voice call out, "Now wait a second!"

And suddenly he's knee deep in illegal substances and laughing like a maniac at everything Dex–that's the dirty boy's real name, Dex–says. He learns a lot about his new partner in crime, like the fact that his left nipple was bigger than his right, and he had a birthmark on his stomach.

"Let me see, let me see!" Derek chants, clapping a little. Dex lifts up his shirt and Derek's breath hitches because, really, he hadn't thought this through.

He also hadn't been expecting so many wounds across the other boy's torso, from what looked like knives and guns and fists wrapped in something deadly. But right there, in the middle of all the bruising, was a spot of brown skin, undisturbed despite the chaos surrounding it. Derek reaches out to touch despite himself. Dex's breath hitches, but Derek doesn't stop reaching, letting the scars run under his rough fingers like that was where they belonged.

"It's so beautiful." Derek says after a long pause, awe dripping off his tone. Dex looks like he wasn't expecting that, but the serious look on Nursey's face tells him he wasn't kidding. "You're so beautiful." And their eyes are caught on each other's for a long beat, and Derek almost moves to brush his lips against Dex's, but the redhead rockets up from his chair quickly.

"I have to–I'll see–um. Yeah." And then he's gone, speed-walking across the room and face bright red.

Derek laughs so loud he misses the sound of sirens outside. He misses the arrest of the Poindexters. But, most of all, he misses the way Dex will wish to run his fingers over his scars while he is being shoved in the back of a police car.


	4. nothing gold can stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, Dex has never really had a boyfriend-boyfriend, but he assumes Derek is the best you can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is !! slightly less trash it actually rekt me !!

Maybe falling in love with a seafood salesman as someone with an extreme allergy to seafood wasn't a good idea. But Derek Nurse had never been one for good ideas.

And that hair, that smile, those freckles—God, Derek would shove a million Epi-pens into his thigh before giving those up.

For all his talk, though, it takes him two weeks to actually walk up to Cute Fish Boy at the local Farmer's Market. Two weeks of meticulous planning, poetic sampling, and brainstorming for the perfect approach. Just to end up walking to the boy and asking for change for a $20.

"Dude." Chowder, his best friend, says, almost in a pitiful way, as he looks down at the four five dollar bills Nursey's holding. Derek sighs loudly and flops onto the couch, ignoring the screams about how filthy it was, mumbling a, "Where did I go wrong?" and a "Two whole weeks, gone to shit," as Chowder rubbed his back lovingly.

—

The boy who works at the bookstore across the street from the Farmer's Market has been staring at Dex for going on two weeks.

It wasn't exactly creepy (except when his friend who works at the fruit stand started taking literal notes), so Dex didn't mind the extra attention. But he kind of expected more than a request for change when he finally comes face to face with his mystery man.

He also doesn't expect such a seemingly shy person to have such beautiful eyes. So he fumbles out four fives instead of two tens, because he just wants to look at him (Derek? His name tag says Derek.) a little longer.

"Will." The red head says simply as he walks up to the counter of the bookstore the next day during his break. His admirer looks startled, and raises an eyebrow. "That's...my name. You didn't have to stare at me for two weeks to get that information." And then the mystery boy is dropping books, yelling apologies and "I'm not creepy I promise"'s and Dex can't stop himself from thinking it's the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

—

Okay, so, Dex has never really had a boyfriend-boyfriend, but he assumes Derek is the best you can get.

Surprise flowers and beautiful sonnets about how Dex's freckles made the stars to him, and kisses all over his face as he wakes up. Derek has an entire album on his phone dedicated to Dex, for Christ's sake. And Dex thinks it is the absolute worst thing in the world, all photos of Dex's sunburned back, or blurry photos of his loved up smile. The way Derek's face lights up when he opens it always makes Dex's heart melt a little.

But more often than not, they're arguing. About what to watch, about who paid which bill, about Pokemon vs. Digimon–anything you can think of, Dex and Nursey have argued about it. The thing about their arguments, though, is that they never lasted more than 15 minutes, and once they were over it was like they never happened. It was like suddenly someone would flip a switch and Nursey would remember how in love with Dex he was, or vice versa. And then there would be neck kisses and giggling and complaints about, "Being squashed under the weight of an overly apologetic boyfriend," before they kissed some more.

Which is why Dex has no idea how they ended up here.

There are glasses shattered on the ground and Dex's face is red from screaming, forgetting about the neighbors and the rest of the world and logic as he yelled at Nursey.

And Nursey yelled back, louder, a booming voice that echoed through their apartment like a siren. It's not like normal, the switch isn't flipping and Dex is so scared that Nursey has forgotten he loves him that all the anger leaves his body and tears build in his eyes.

"THEN GET THE FUCK OUT, WILL!" Derek screams, his fists balled tight and his voice cracking under all the pressure in the room. Dex looks at him in disbelief, before scoffing and grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter. "Where are you—" Derek's weak voice is cut off by the slam of their front door, making the curly haired boy jump a little.

And then he's alone.

And this always happens, after he says something he shouldn't have—he's left alone to sob like a fucking child, to cling to his own skin like it is trying to escape him, and he can barely breathe between his wracking cries.

—

Dex was wrong.

He always is, in the long run, it seems. He can't ever seem to say the right thing.

He's not used to this. He's not used to someone wanting to look after him and take care of him but that's what Nursey wants to do. And it warms Dex's heart so much it scares him, and then the warmth turns into a burn and Dex starts something for no reason. It's the way he is and he hates it.

He only hates it more when he remembers that Nursey loves it, because there's no part of Dex that Derek doesn't love. He loves the way he snorts sometimes when he laughs, he loves the mouthguard he has to wear to bed, he loves all of it and he does it so unapologetically.

Dex pulls over into the parking lot of a Walgreens and cries for what feels like hours. Then he takes a deep breath, wipes his face off, and walks in.

—

Dex didn't know a lot about flowers. That was mainly Nursey's thing, being a hopeless romantic and all. But roses seemed like a safe bet, because they were in all those corny movies Derek always made him watch. (Also, Dex had spent an hour in the flowers section searching for the right apology bouquet before just picking one and refusing to turn back.)

The red haired boy picks up his phone and waits for Derek to pick up (he doesn't and Dex can't say he's surprised). "Hey, baby, I was just–I'm sorry. I'm gonna do better, I promise. I want–I wanna let you take care of me. It's just...it's all new. But it feels right, with you, I mean, it feels right. I–I love you, Derek Nurse. I'll see you in a couple min—"

Dex misses the semi speeding towards him. He can't turn fast enough and he's screaming but it won't save him. He thinks about Nursey. He sees his face in the bright lights of the ambulance. All the white around him is swallowing him whole, and someone is begging for him to hold on, and God knows he's trying, for himself and for Nursey and everyone else, but he can't. There is something so much stronger than him pulling him away and he hates how weak he feels. He sees Nursey's face again. And then there's nothing.

—

Derek can't stop crying.

The paramedic hands him a bouquet of flowers. "They had your name on them," She says, softly, as if she is afraid Derek will shatter. (He already has, so, really, it's a pointless precaution.)

Roses. Derek laughs a little.

He fucking hated roses.


	5. too old to play in the streets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys play in the street. But you have not been a boy for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay shit !! futuristic nuclear fallout-ish au! this is probably so off base with what would actually happen during nuclear fallout but!! bear with me! there's a happy chapter up next !! also this is second person from nursey's pov.

You hadn't been born into this.

You remember being young, and the world not being as dark. You remember playing in the street as a child, just you and your cousins throwing whatever you all could find, just to see who could get the farthest.

But the bombs started dropping.

Unrelenting on your eleven year old ears, scary and brash and the only thing that had ever made you feel so small.

Your father went crazy, running into the street and screaming for them to come and get him long after the sounds of bombs dropping was gone. Your mother gathered your things and crept out the back in the middle of the night, holding your hand tightly as your Father (or what used to be your Father) slept.

This new world is not a world where boys like you play in the street. Dead bodies litter the streets like trash and men come after you and Mother. You see terrible things and after two years you are not even remotely the same.

Every night, your mother holds you close to her chest and reads you a new poem from a little book she has.

She dies when you're sixteen.

The world still isn't back together, and disease had been sprouting up everywhere, so it was only a matter of time.

You can't even bury her. You place flowers around her body and kiss her dirty cheek and leave the small shack the two of you have called home for too long.

You're on your own for a while, until an older boy named Jack (who's traveling with an extremely odd duo named Shitty and Lardo) offers to take you in.

You travel everywhere with them, the book your mother used to read poems from strapped to your chest.

You're eighteen when you meet Bitty. It's strange, that in a world where there is nothing but anger and sadness, that someone like Bitty could exist. He laughs and cooks and he starts travelling with all of you, too.

Soon you come across a red headed boy, Dex, and his friend Chowder. Chowder is coughing and Dex looks worried all the time. "We're trying to get to the city. There's medicine there. Real medicine." Dex says, after Chowder has gone to sleep. Jack agrees to let them travel with you.

—

Dex is a bit of an enigma. Late at night, when it's just the two of you, he laughs so hard he snorts and talks all about the stars. There's dirt smudged all over his face and you try to imagine him before this all happened. You wonder if he played in the street too, and how his hand would've felt in yours if there were still movie theaters for the two of you to go to. You wonder if he's ever been in love. You wonder where he learned to say your name like that, like he really means it. It's beautiful.

Dex also gets angry in a way you don't quite understand. You telling him to calm down only makes it worse somehow, and his face gets all red and you think it's the cutest thing.

—

Jack says you're in love.

You've read poems about love, heard stories about love, but never really been in love. You suppose you loved your Mother, but thinking about that at all is like ripping open a wound you had worked so hard to keep bandaged.

So, yeah, maybe you love Dex. Maybe you love the way his eyes look with the sun in them, and how dark his freckles got in the summer, and how God probably made poetry just to do him justice because he was—he was so inexplicably beautiful otherwise.

But Chowder is getting sicker by the day, and Dex's worry lines are starting to become permanent. Soon you start having dreams of holding your mother as she coughed up blood, choking back sobs and feeling her heart beat. You wake up, sweating, with Chowder hacking loudly next to you and Dex.

So when you see a huge truck tumbling down the littered remains of what used to be a street, you flag it down without really thinking. The driver, some strange man named Holster, tells you he's going to the city, because his friend (Husband? Enemy? The way they talked to each other made it all possible.) was a "brilliant scientist." You ask if they have room for two more and Ransom grins and nods.

Before you know it, Dex is putting together what little stuff him and Chowder have, and the blaring heat of the day is winding down. Then you're face to face with your own red headed wonder, pushing your Mother's poetry book into his hands and smiling faintly. "Be, um, safe." You say, quietly, trying to fight the tears both of you know are going to come.

"Yeah." Dex says, weakly, before clearing his throat. "Don't–Don't forget me, alright, ugly?" Dex is smiling, but not really, because he has tears running down his cheeks.

"I'll see you later." You call to him once he's climbed inside the truck. He smiles and nods, putting on his seatbelt and waving you goodbye for as long as you can see him.

You never see Dex again, and let your new favorite memory become the way that he looked in the moonlight.


	6. the world was built for two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dex wonders if a red string really connects us all. He only has thirty seconds before he finds out. (Or, the 1 time they could love each other.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a soulmates au & it's short but also [cries] i finished a fic...a thanksgiving miracle

i.

Dex studies his wrists.

On one, there is cuts from darker days, and a bold tattoo he’s had since he hit puberty. All it says is “Chill.” in small, dense lettering. Seeing it makes his skin itch.

On the other, there’s a timer, which he’s had since he was 6 or 7. The seconds tick away and his heart starts beating faster. He’s been waiting for his clock to start since he was a little boy.

At first, his parents had thought that something was wrong with him, that he had no soulmate and they had wasted his time getting him a timer at all. But now, he’s 16, looking at his wrist, looking at the big numbers that are reading him his fate, plain as day.

His parents had already given up on him not having a soulmate, though, when his tattoo came in. He was 15, and he had woken up to a burning sensation at the end of his arm and a renewed hope in his heart. He screams and shows his father and his mother can’t stop crying and it’s one of the happiest moments of his childhood. (The underlying feeling of _I’m gonna get out of here, I’m gonna have a whole life of my own_ is what makes Dex cry in amazement that night.)

Now, he’s 16, on the fourth of July, looking at his timer in amazement. **1:0:1:5:14:6:33**

One year, zero months, 1 week, 5 days, 14 hours, 6 minute, and 33 seconds. 32 seconds. 31 seconds. Dex can’t wait.

In that year, he turns seventeen, wins a junior hockey championship (in a small league, but still), and is recruited by Samwell University.

That summer, he goes on a grand tour of the facility, and listens to the tour guide drone on about how it was rebuilt in the aftermath of the Final Days (the period of survival after the nuclear apocalypse, Dex reminds himself).

Finally, someone from the hockey team finds him, smiling brightly and drawing him into a tight hug that Dex isn’t sure how to respond to. “Hi,” He says, awkwardly, as the hands unwrap from around him.

They go to the cold rink, and Dex doesn't have a sweater but he's still sweating.

 _Chill_ , he thinks, over and over, drowning out whatever the small, blonde hockey player is saying. 30 seconds.

(Some dark part of him is still hoping it’s a girl.)

(A darker part of himself is praying that it’s a beautiful boy, with kind eyes, who’ll love him and only him. He wonders if that’s too much to ask. He wonders if he deserves it.)

15 seconds.

Dex has to sit down. The tour guide looks at him, worried, his Southern hospitality not allowing him to think of the boy as crazy, like he should.

10 seconds.

At ten seconds, it starts beeping. The guide understands, suddenly, and almost squeals. It’s like the whole world is holding it’s breath, but the timer is still _beep beep beeping_.

5 seconds.

His palms are sweaty and he almost can’t breathe. He hasn’t even met them (him, he thinks, somewhere in the back of his head).

3.

The door next to him opens. There’s a pause and he hears, “What’s up with that dude?”

2.

Dex looks up. His head starts to turn.

1.

The boy smiles and says, “ _Chill_.” Dex has never been so happy. The sound of both of their timers, beeping frantically as they hit zero fill the air when Dex finally looks him eyes, is all anyone can hear.

“Fuck.” Dex says, louder than he means to. He covers his mouth, already embarrassed. The guide—Eric, is that his name?—is still squealing. The boy (who is beautiful with kind eyes and big hands and a sticker that says “Hi, my name is Derek.” in bulky letters on his chest) laughs, and Dex swears he’s already in love.

**Author's Note:**

> TALK TO ME ABOUT MY GAY SONS AT PENNYPROVD ON TUMBLR LET'S GET REKT GUYS!!!


End file.
